Chapter 17
Frank leaned forward, and using his elbow, rang the bell to Justine’s apartment.
He’d managed to carry a large picnic basket and two shopping bags up the staircase in one trip.
If he’d been able to park closer to her apartment building, then he would’ve gone downstairs a second time, but he hadn’t wanted to waste time.
He hadn’t been able to shake the images in his dream where he’d lost Justine—forever.
And if it was meant to be, then he wanted to spend as much time with her until she’d cease being a part of his life.
The door opened, and Justine looked at him as if she’d never seen him before. “What on earth are you carrying?” she asked, stepping back and opening the door wider.
“Everything I need for our dinner,” he said, walking in and heading for the kitchen.
“Can I at least take one of the bags?” Justine said, following him.
“No, doll. I have this.” Frank set the picnic basket on the table, then slowly lowered the shopping bags on the floor.
Every time he saw Justine, she looked different.
Today her hair was a mass of tiny curls framing her face and falling around her shoulders.
It was the first time he’d seen her wear a dress—a flower-sprigged sleeveless A-line shift ending at her knees.
Frankie forced himself not to stare at her shapely bare legs and slender feet in a pair of black flats.
He’d called her doll, and that was how he had started thinking of her. A delicate, beautiful, Black doll who’d unknowingly spun a web from which there was no escape, because he didn’t want to wake up from the sensual spell that had held him captive the instant he first laid eyes on her.
Frank winked at Justine before he opened the basket and took out the ingredients for his Bolognese and soup. “Your hair looks amazing.”
She smiled. “Thank you. I went to the beauty shop early this morning. I was lucky, because I was the first one in line before they opened up.”
He gave her a sidelong glance as he continued to empty the basket. “What happened to making an appointment?”
“This shop doesn’t take appointments. It’s first come, first serve.”
“Where is it?” he asked.
“It’s in El Barrio near One-Eighteenth.”
“I thought you didn’t go to East Harlem.”
“I don’t want Kenny to go to East Harlem.”
“Why, Justine? Do you think it’s more dangerous than West Harlem?”
“No. I don’t want him to go to either Harlem. At least not until he’s older.”
“What about when he goes to high school, Justine? There’s no doubt he’ll have to take the bus or the subway to get where he has to.”
Justine crossed her arms under her breasts. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
Frank’s head popped up and met her eyes. He wanted to tell Justine that she was overly protective of her son; that she had to allow him the freedom to explore new places. If not, then she would stunt his maturing into a confident man able to withstand the ups and downs of life.
Knowing instinctively that she wouldn’t appreciate his questioning her decision as to how she’d chosen to raise her son, he smiled. “By the way, where’s Kenny?”
Justine lowered her arms. “He’s in his room, sulking.”
Frank’s hands halted. “If you don’t mind my asking, but what is he sulking about?”
“He feels as if he’s losing his friends.
He told me about Frankie moving across town and that Ray’s family is planning to move to the Bronx.
I tried talking to him, but he just stared at me as if I was speaking a language he didn’t understand.
This is the first time I’ve felt as if I’m losing my son. ”
“You’re not losing him, Justine. He’s probably going through things he can’t talk to you about.”
“And you think he would feel comfortable talking about those things to you?” she asked.
Frank bit back a smile. Justine had just given him the opening he needed to run interference between her and her son. “Probably,” he said. “There was a time when I, too, was a teenage boy who refused to talk to my mother about what was bothering me.”
“Did you talk to your father?”
Shaking his head, he said, “No. He believed that children should be seen and not heard.”
“Who did you talk to?” Justine asked.
“My favorite uncle, and when he wasn’t around, an older cousin.”
“Kenny doesn’t have an uncle or cousins, so I would really appreciate it if you would talk to him.”
“I can’t promise a miracle, but I will try.” He held up a hand. “I’ll finish unpacking everything when I come back.”
“Francis.”
Justine had said his name so softly that for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. “Yes, Justine.”
“Thank you.”
Frank nodded. He didn’t know if she was thanking him for being there for herself or because he’d volunteered to intervene between her and Kenny.
He hoped it was the former. He walked out of the kitchen, through the living room, down a narrow hallway past a bathroom and bedroom he assumed was Justine’s because it was decorated in pastel yellows and greens.
Across the hall from hers was a bedroom with a closed door. Raising his hand, he knocked softly.
“I told you before I don’t want to talk to you,” came the reply to his knock.
“I’m not your mother.”
It was a full minute before the door opened, and Frank smiled at Justine’s son. “May I come in?”
Kenny opened the door, and he walked in, his gaze sweeping around the room, noting the unmade bed, a pile of discarded clothes in a corner, and stacks of books on a table doubling as a desk. The boy moved quickly to remove a loose-leaf binder from a chair. “Please sit down, Mr. Dee.”
Frank pointed to the bed. “After you.”
Kenny sat and stared at his hands sandwiched between his knees. “I suppose you were talking to my mother.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Kenny. She just told me that you weren’t talking to her. And what could be so bad that you can’t open up to her about?”
Kenny’s head popped up. “She doesn’t understand that I’m losing my friends, because she doesn’t have any.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Kenny. She has me. I’m her friend whose cares about her.”
“I’m not saying you’re not her friend.”
“Then, what are you saying?”
A beat passed as Kenny stared up at the ceiling.
“It’s different with Frankie and Ray, because they have a family when it’s only Mom and me.
I don’t have a brother or sisters or even cousins I know about, so when I met Ray and Frankie, they became my brothers that I could talk to about different things. ”
Frank’s expression was impassive. “Things like sex and girls?”
Kenny appeared shocked when he said, “How did you know?”
“I was once a teenage boy going through the same things you, Ray, and my nephew are experiencing. The first time I had a hard-on that wouldn’t go down, I thought there was something wrong with me.”
“What did you do?” Kenny whispered.
A chuckle rumbled in Frank’s chest. “I jerked off, and it felt so good that I thought my head had exploded.”
“The same thing happened to me, Mr. Dee; then I got scared, because I’d heard somewhere that jerking off a lot could cause blindness.”
“That’s nonsense, Kenny, because more than half the world’s male population would’ve lost their sight. The alternative to masturbating is having sex.”
“At what age did you first have sex?”
Frank knew he’d scaled a hurdle with Kenny, because he felt comfortable talking about sex with him. Something he probably hadn’t done with his mother. “I was sixteen.”
Kenny’s large eyes grew even larger. “Was it with a girl in your school?”
“No. It was with an older woman. My uncle took me to this woman who told me she was going to give me the best birthday present I would ever have, because once she finished with me, I would be a man.”
“Were you?”
He didn’t want to frighten Kenny with all the details and how frightened he’d been once it was over. That the woman had done things to him he never could’ve imagined after she’d put her face between his legs.
“Yes. My uncle thought it was better that I sleep with a prostitute than the girls in the neighborhood, because he didn’t want any of them to accuse me of getting them pregnant.”
Kenny leaned forward. “Have you ever gotten a girl pregnant?”
“No, Kenny. When it comes time for you to sleep with a woman, then you must always use a condom if you don’t want to get her pregnant.
And always use your own, because there are some women who will put a tiny hole in their condom to trick you into getting them pregnant.
Then, you may be forced to marry them, even if you’re not ready for marriage. ”
“What if I’m in love with her?”
“If you love her that much, then you should marry her.”
“I’m going to ask you a question, Mr. Dee, and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”
“What makes you think I won’t answer it?” Frank asked.
“Because it’s about my mother,” Kenny countered.
“What about your mother?”
“Are you in love with her?”
Frank slowly shook his head. “No, Kenny. I’m not in love with your mother. And even if I were, I wouldn’t marry her.”
Kenny glared at him. “Why not?”
“Because she told me she doesn’t want to get married again. And I would never force a woman to do something she doesn’t want to do.”
“But what if she changes her mind?”
Frank wanted to tell the boy there were too many complications that wouldn’t permit him and Justine to exist in a peaceful environment as man and wife.
Not with the escalating conflict of race relations going on in the country.
“I doubt if your mother is ever going to change her mind, Kenny. It’s okay with me if we just remain friends.
It shouldn’t be any different with you, Frankie, and Ray.
Just because you will eventually go to different schools, that doesn’t mean you can’t remain friends.
You may not share the same school or classes, but you can always get together on weekends or when school is on recess.
I still have the same friends I had in high school and college. ”
“You went to college?”
Throwing back his head, Frank laughed when seeing Kenny’s shocked expression. “Yes. Why did you think I hadn’t?”
Shrugging, Kenny said, “I don’t know. Where did you go?”
“I went to Rutgers University in New Brunswick to major in business. My father wanted me to go to a college here in the city, but it was the one time I defied him. I told him if I didn’t go away to college, then I wasn’t going.
Meanwhile, he’d bragged to all of his friends that his son was going to be the first one in the family to go to college, and in the end to save face, he relented. ”
“Why did you want to go away?”
“That’s another story you don’t need to hear.” He didn’t want to explain to Kenny that he needed to get away from his tyrannical father. “Now, I want you to do me a favor.”
“What’s that, Mr. Dee?”
“Go and apologize to your mother, and then I want you to be my assistant when I make my Bolognese sauce and white bean and sausage soup.”
“I thought Mom was going to help you.”
Frank stood up. “This time, us men are going to give her a break in the kitchen, because she’s always cooking for you.”
Kenny scrambled off the bed. “You’re right. It’s time for her men to take over the kitchen. But, can you wait for me to make my bed and pick up my clothes? Mom would have a fit if she saw my room like this.”
“Five minutes, Kenny. That’s all the time I’m giving you.” Frank would’ve begun prepping the ingredients he needed to make the sauce if he hadn’t had to play stepfather to Justine’s son.
He hadn’t expected Kenny to ask him about marrying his mother. That wasn’t even a thought when he doubted whether she would ever permit him to make love to her. It had been more than a decade since she’d slept with a man, and she admitted that she didn’t miss what she didn’t have.
Kenny made quick time making his bed and scooping up the clothes and putting them inside a bathroom hamper. Frank followed him as they made their way to the kitchen, where Justine sat at the table, drinking coffee while flipping through a magazine.
She set down her cup and stood up. “I thought I was going to have to send out a search party for you two,” she teased, smiling.
“It’s all right, Mom,” Kenny said. “Mr. Dee and me had a man-to-man discussion about a lot of things, and I’m sorry about not talking to you.”
Justine smiled. “It’s okay, as long as you solved your problem.”
“I hope you don’t mind if Kenny and I take over your kitchen to cook today,” Frank told Justine. “I want to teach him how to make Bolognese sauce before my mother shows him how to make her gravy.”
“Italians call tomato sauce gravy,” Kenny said quickly.
“I don’t mind. So, you two do your thing,” Justine said.
Frankie rested a hand on Kenny’s shoulder. “Let’s go, chef, because it’s going to take a long time before the sauce is ready. Then, there’s still the soup.”
“How long, Mr. Dee?”
“It will take about five hours for the sauce and another hour and a half for the soup.”
“I could do a lot in five hours,” Justine said, as she emptied her cup and left it in the sink. “If anyone is looking for me, I’ll be in my room in the back.”
Waiting until she left, Frank reached into one of the shopping bags and took out two bibbed aprons, handing one to Kenny, and then putting on the other.
He didn’t want to tell Justine that cooking for her was special, because it was the first time he’d cooked for a woman, other than his mother.
As an adult, he lived his life adhering to a set of strict cardinal rules: he didn’t invite women to his apartment; he always used his own condoms when sleeping with women; and he never kissed them on the mouth.
However, he was willing to break those rules with Justine.
If they were to share a bed, he would continue to use a condom with her, because an unplanned pregnancy would be catastrophic for both their lives.
Justine had plans for her future, and those didn’t include having another child, while he doubted if he offered to marry her, she would accept his proposal.
And he wondered if that was what he’d dreamt about.
That she was carrying his child, and she was screaming at him to leave her alone.
He closed his eyes and shook his head as if to banish the images that had continued to plague him, even after he’d awoken from the nightmare.
“Are you all right, Mr. Dee?”
He smiled at Kenny. “I’m good, son. Let’s start cooking.”